Saving Severus
by sprite.isn't.lemonade
Summary: Hermione fails to pay off a life debt to Snape after he dies from Nagini's attack in the Shrieking Shack. Bound by the deep and inpenetrable magic of Life Debts, there is only one choice left for Hermione: to return to the past. HG/SS Time Travel fic
1. Chapter 1

**Saving Severus**

**Chapter One**

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter._

* * *

"I think I have an answer. Perhaps you already know it? You are a clever man, after all, Severus. You have been a good and faithful servant, and I regret what must happen."

From her hiding place next to Harry and Ron, Hermione could vaguely see Severus Snape staring up at Voldemort's snake, Nagini, with slight apprehension. Perhaps he sensed danger, and his master's words surely did nothing to calm these worries. Although his voice was just a mere whisper, Voldemort's words were perfectly clear. A feeling of overwhelming terror engulfed Hermione with every word he spoke.

In front of her, Harry was silently crouching under his Invisibility Cloak. Hermione was leaning on what felt like his shoulder for balance— this space was severely cramped but she was too focused on the conversation between Voldemort and Snape to really fidget much. Besides, one noise from their hiding place, and they were done for. It was best to remain as they were.

"My Lord—"

_What is Voldemort getting at? _She so desperately wanted to ask her friends, not that it would have mattered, since they would have as much of an idea as she did. If Snape was truly Voldemort's right hand man, then what did he have to fear from the master whom he was most loyal to?

"The Elder Wand cannot serve me properly, Severus, because I am not its true master. The Elder Wand belongs to the wizard who killed its last owner. You killed Albus Dumbledore—" Hermione felt Harry tense up as Voldemort mentioned Dumbledore, "—while you live, Severus, the Elder Wand cannot be truly mine."

Hermione's heart pounded fiercely against her chest. The ominous words Voldemort uttered were like a death sentence upon the man. Behind her, she could hear Ron's breathing quicken, and Harry was tenser than ever under his cloak, waiting to see what would become of Snape.

"My Lord!" Snape raised his wand, as though he was actually thinking of trying to fight off Lord Voldemort singlehandedly.

"It cannot be any other way," Voldemort said softly, his scarlet eyes glancing over the wand in his hands with disturbing fascination. "I must master the wand, Severus. Master the wand, and I master Potter at last."

Hermione felt an overwhelming desire to scream as Voldemort swiped the air; however, she managed to muffle it before she revealed their hiding place. No flash of green light came, strangely enough. Hermione unwillingly opened her eyes and saw that Voldemort wasn't quite finished yet: the snake's cage launched itself at Snape, and Voldemort spoke…

"_Hiss."_

Unlike Harry, Hermione did not understand Parseltongue. Not that she needed to, because Nagini's instructions were soon clear to all of them.

_Please don't kill him…don't kill him,_ Hermione silently pleaded the snake, incapable of watching as Snape's scream echoed along the walls of the Shrieking Shack.

_He can't die…he'll be fine…he can't die, he just __**can't**__…_

Hermione knew all too well how it felt to die, for she had come face to face with Death just two years ago, in the Department of Mysteries. And if it weren't for Snape, it would have only been Ron and Harry sitting in this cramped tunnel right now. Hermione owed her life to him, though judging by what she had just seen and heard she wouldn't be given the chance to pay him back in this lifetime…

**xXxXxXxXx**

"Where are you going Severus?"

Snape turned around just before he reached the exit of Dumbledore's office and stared at the headmaster.

"I intend to search the forest for the boy…he has been known for getting himself lost in there before—"

"—I think it would be better for you to come with me," Dumbledore replied gravely, pointing his wand at an old quill and muttering "_Portus_" under his breath. It glowed for a moment before returning to its normal state. With Voldemort and his followers running loose in the Ministry, he knew something as trivial as an unauthorized Portkey would hardly be of notice to the Minister.

"With you?" Snape repeated, seeing more negative consequences to this suggestion than positive ones, though he didn't mention these to Dumbledore, who seemed quite certain about what he was asking of him.

"I daresay the Order is outnumbered as it is, and we must ensure the safety of the children."

"But…the Dark Lord—"

"— will undoubtedly have other distractions to worry about. Perhaps you might have guessed why Voldemort tricked Harry into going to the Department of Mysteries tonight?"

"You mean…the prophecy?"

Dumbledore nodded, looking graver than ever. "Voldemort does not wish to reveal himself to the public while everyone is still in denial of his return. Retrieving the prophecy himself could lead to dire consequences for him if he is seen. I have feared that Voldemort would instead use Harry to get to it ever since you informed me of what you had seen Harry envisioning during your final Occlumency lesson."

Snape breathed a tiny sigh of relief, thankful that Dumbledore's words had no trace of accusation laced within them.

"I cannot say I am glad to find my predictions accurate," Dumbledore admitted sadly. "I am anxious to see what has and will happen tonight."

"Dumbledore," Snape began slowly, rubbing his left forearm, which had suddenly begun to burn rather painfully. "The Death Eaters…"

"I advise you to cast a Disillusionment Charm as a precaution, however…it would be best to, ah…_act_ _accordingly_ if your situation calls for it."

Snape immediately knew what Dumbledore meant and nodded slowly before casting a Disillusionment Charm over his head. It felt as though melted ice was running down his entire body, and within seconds, Severus Snape disappeared.

"Are you touching it?" Dumbledore inquired, holding up the quill. Snape verbally confirmed and after five more seconds of waiting, they were flung out of Dumbledore's office and into the chaotic transportation path between Earth and the infinite limbo beyond.

--

--

When they landed, Snape felt himself quite disoriented, though partly due to the fact that he couldn't even see where his feet were. To his right, he saw Dumbledore staring straight at him…how did he do that?

There was a boy groaning somewhere off to the left. Before Snape spotted the source of the noise, his eyes landed on a giant tank in the middle of the room. It was filled to the brim with mysterious green liquid and small dark figures were swimming around within…were they _brains?_

The boy grunted angrily again, and Snape soon found himself looking down at Ron Weasley. A brain was wrapped tightly around the panicked boy's abdomen and a stray tentacle was slowly winding its way up to his neck. If Dumbledore didn't do anything, Weasley would be strangled to death.

Dumbledore was no longer here, however. In fact, he wasn't even in the room. Snape looked everywhere, but it seemed as though the old man had left him to tend to the injured kids while he darted off to find Potter and that blasted prophecy before the Dark Lord did.

Seeing no other volunteers to do the job, he wordlessly slashed the air with his wand. At once, the brain released Weasley and flew back to the tank where it belonged. Exhausted from fighting against the brain for so long, Ron instantly fell backwards, unconscious.

_He'll live, _Snape thought unconcernedly as he decided against reviving the boy. The sound of bodies slamming into the ground and exploding curses from the room beyond caught his attention; what if something went wrong? These children would survive, he knew, from the looks of Lovegood and the two Weasleys lying on the ground. The Weasley girl was already awakening from her state of unconsciousness.

_All that leaves is Potter, Longbottom, and Granger. Surely Longbottom is around here somewhere…perhaps he's dead, Bellatrix would have enjoyed that,_ Snape thought grimly as he searched around for more bodies.

Potter was obviously not in here— the Death Eaters wouldn't just leave him lying there if he had been injured— and it appeared that Longbottom wasn't, either. Granger, however, was lying motionless in the far right corner, behind the vast brain enclosure.

In the distance, there was a sudden and inexplicable ceasefire. Everything fell silent; as though Time itself had stopped.

After that brief period of silence, the place dissolved into bedlam once more. Somewhere within the room beyond the one he was currently in, Snape heard a man— or was it a boy?— screaming words he could not comprehend at the moment.

Out of nowhere, Bellatrix burst through the door, looking wilder than ever. Snape was so startled by her sudden appearance that he nearly tripped over Granger's unmoving body, temporarily forgetting about the Disillusionment Charm he had placed over himself earlier.

Right after Bellatrix entered, Harry Potter sprinted into the room, holding out his wand and wearing a strangely murderous expression that Snape had never seen on the boy's face before. Then, just as quickly as they came, Potter chased Bellatrix through the second door and the room fell silent once more.

Snape had been so utterly stunned to see the two that he hadn't done anything to prevent Bellatrix's escape. Not that he could have, anyways; not without blowing his cover first.

Still, he darted towards the door in which they escaped through; neither Bellatrix nor Potter were anywhere in sight. There were numerous doors in this new room, and there was little chance of Snape choosing the correct door on the first try. Alas, he decided it would be best if went back to ensure that Granger wasn't as dead as she looked…

"_Rennervate_," he muttered, pointing his wand towards Granger's limp body. She didn't move. At once, Snape knew there was something wrong: the healing spell should have woken her up immediately. He waited. He had felt a pulse a moment earlier, but it had been alarmingly slow.

His breathing quickened as the girl feebly lift up her head. So she _was_ alive after all. But her suffering was far from over: even the minimal effort of moving her head seemed to weaken her significantly.

"Ron?" she croaked, her voice barely audible even in the stony silence around them. "Luna? Ginny?"

Her voice grew softer with each name she uttered. Her breaths were short and it sounded as though each one pained her greatly. Whatever she had been hit with, it had been a terrible curse. Possibly even a deadly curse.

Snape stared at the girl as she tried with everything she had to get to her knees. She failed, but improvised and sluggishly attempted crawling towards her other incapacitated friends, using only her arms. Her upper body swayed dangerously from the tremendous effort, but she valiantly kept trying to reach the other three. Only when her vision blurred so badly that she felt as though she was going blind did she give way and fall to the ground.

_I'm going to die,_ Hermione thought as she lay there, her lungs unable to provide her worn out body with enough oxygen to keep on going. Worst of all: her friends were going to die too. She had failed to reach them and they were going to die because of her.

She blinked dazedly, fatigued to the point of seeing hallucinations: a man in billowing black robes suddenly appeared from nowhere, right in front of where she was lying helplessly on the floor. The last thing she remembered before slipping back into blissful unconsciousness was the feeling of two strong arms carefully lifting her up and carrying her away…

--

--

Hermione didn't know how much time had passed. All she knew that she was alive. But just barely.

She opened her eyes and found herself in an unfamiliar place, though it looked somewhat similar to the Potions dungeons at Hogwarts. Her immediate reaction was that she had fallen asleep in Potions class, but one glance around the room told her that she was alone. Except for one person. He was hurriedly shuffling through various cabinets and boxes, as though he had lost something important.

Hermione wanted to call out to him, but words would not come to her lips. She tried moving her body, but found that she was paralyzed from the neck down. Only her eyelids seemed to function properly.

_What's wrong with me?_ She silently asked the man. Her befuddled mind did not register who he was; it was hard enough keeping her eyes open long enough to watch him.

After a few moments of careless searching, he turned around; his face was extremely pale and he had an unnaturally worried look etched all over his face. Seeing her watching him seemed to calm him slightly.

"Wait here," he ordered her, not that she could leave even if she had wanted to. He departed the room at once, shutting the door quietly behind him.

It eventually became too difficult for Hermione's eyes to remain open; she vaguely realized she was not healing but rather her condition worsened as time passed. Her eyelids slowly drooped over her misty eyes, encasing her once more in the world of total darkness in which she found to be quite a pleasant escape in this miserable state. If this was how she was to live the rest of her life, unable to speak or even move, then death would be preferable. Surely it was too late to save her…

The most peculiar sensation crept over Hermione just after her heart pounded for what should have been the last time: she was no longer trapped in her body; instead, she was nothingness, one with the air. A spirit perhaps. She was travelling along a pitch-black tunnel, towards a tiny speck of light that awaited her at the end. The closer she got to the light, the faster she flew. It was like riding a broom, except this flight wasn't awkward for her as brooms had been. Everything was silent except for the chilly breeze whipping past her bodiless form. She was almost there…

And she had been so close. Just a wand's length away from reaching her destination. Then she had inexplicably stopped and hovered there, unable to move forward no matter how hard she tried. Her spirit strained against the force tugging her backwards, wanting to go on ahead to the light. She did not want to return to the darkness, knowing what awaited her. Much to her dismay, she soon found herself steadily being pulled back to the place where she had begun her journey into this narrow passageway between life and death.

Hermione had been inches away from total death. And now…she found herself in her body once more, feeling more alive than she had ever been.

She could blink. Her eyes did not burn and water up when they remained open. She was no longer paralyzed and would have said something if the sight of her saviour hadn't rendered her completely speechless...

**xXxXxXxXx**

"I regret it."

Hermione forced herself to open her eyes and watched as Voldemort exited without a second glance towards the man whom was now lying on the ground, dying. There was no remorse in his voice, even though he had ordered the murder of an innocent man just so that he could master a wand. The Deathstick.

A familiar wand appeared out of nowhere in front of Hermione, and carefully prepared to move the crate that had previously blocked the trio's view of the scene.

"Harry!" Hermione hissed, knowing what Harry was going to do and somehow understanding his motives for doing so. Her face whiter than a ghost, she glanced back at Ron: all over the colour had drained from his face and he was trembling violently from what they had just seen.

Hermione held her knuckles up to the faint light emitted from the room beyond; without realizing it, her nails had pierced her skin and blood was oozing down her shaking hands. Once Harry removed the Invisibility Cloak— Hermione and Ron didn't bother stopping him— the two crawled out from their hiding spot and tried to make sense of the horrific situation before them.

For the first time ever, Snape looked afraid. More than afraid, he was positively terrified. Hermione found it hard to stay silent as she watched Snape grab Harry and pull him towards himself, as though his former most-hated student were his last hope.

"Take…it…take…it…"

The three noticed that more than just blood was coming from Snape now. Her mind barely registered what she was doing as she conjured a small flask from thin air and placed it into Harry's hands.

Once it was full to the brim, Snape almost released his grip on Harry's arm. Anyone who had lost that much blood would have been dead by now, but he seemed to be holding out for something.

"Look…at…me…"

For some unexplainable reason, his last dying wish was to look at Harry. Time stopped for all of one second, and the next, Snape's hand dropped uselessly to the floor and he went still.

**xXxXxXxXx**

For quite some time, all three of them were frozen in place, unsure of what to do or say next. Nasty git or not, seeing his death had been truly appalling.

"You have fought valiantly," Voldemort's voice rang out behind them. Harry leaped to his feet and whirled around, perhaps thinking Voldemort had returned to the room, but instead his voice had just been magically magnified.

Ron and Harry stared at the door, listening, but Hermione's eyes were still transfixed on Snape's unmoving body. She had nearly died once, too; if Snape had simply assumed her to be completely dead, then she wouldn't have survived at all. Was it possible that Snape wasn't_ completely_ dead?

Careful not to tread in the horrifyingly large pool of blood, Hermione crept over to the man and kneeled beside his head. Neither Harry nor Ron noticed her as her hand reached over to the non-bloodied side of his neck, just below his jaw. It was the carotid artery, Hermione knew from the books on Muggle medical care she had read when she was younger…

_There's a pulse_, Hermione realized as hand retreated in shock. There was no way…he _had _to be dead after losing all this blood…

"One hour," Voldemort finished speaking and silence engulfed the area once more.

"Don't listen to him," Ron said firmly. "We'll fight…and win."

The boys turned around and faced Hermione, who was still staring at Snape; for once in her life, she had no idea what potion or spell could save him. Her mind was still numb from the events she had witnessed tonight; it didn't seem to be working properly at the moment, but she knew that if she did nothing then he would undoubtedly die.

"Hermione?" Harry's voice sounded as uncertain as she felt. He, too, was badly rattled by Nagini's attack on Snape.

"I'll…follow you…in a minute," Hermione replied, her voice hollow. Her eyes didn't dare look up at her friends as she spoke.

Not quite understanding their friend's motives for staying behind, yet wanting to respect her wishes, Ron and Harry slowly departed through the hole. Harry turned around and looked at her one last time before disappearing beneath the Invisibility Cloak.

Once she was alone, the panic set in: how had Snape survived _that_? How would she save him? What if she was too late anyways?

Forcing her mind to concentrate, Hermione pulled out her wand and cleared her mind of everything except the healing spells she had memorized from some of her countless books over the years.

Nothing appeared to help the dying man. The excess blood was siphoned away, and she managed to heal the massive gash on his neck. Still, her efforts were futile. Every other minute or so, she would reach down and feel for a pulse; and each time, it felt weaker and weaker. It was like he was _trying_ to die faster.

The final blow came when she found her small vial of the Essence of Dittany hidden within her pockets…empty. Not even a single drop. She half wondered why she kept the blasted thing if it was completely used up. It had worked for Harry when he had been bitten by Nagini, but Snape's bite was far worse than Harry's had been. Perhaps the stuff wouldn't have even worked on his wound, seeing that none of her healing spells had worked thus far anyways.

Tears welled up in her eyes after her last-ditch effort of Muggle-style resuscitation failed to bring Snape back.

_You can't die yet, damn it!_

She couldn't even feel his pulse anymore. It was too late to run to the potions stores; by the time she returned he would be long-gone.

Hermione rechecked his wrists and neck for signs of a pulse, but there were no signs of life anymore.

Two years ago, Snape had succeeded in saving her life. Today, although she had certainly tried to save him, he now lay unmistakably dead.

Hermione had failed.

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**Please review! :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Saving Severus**

**Chapter Two**

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter._

_A/N: I'm sorry this took so long...I've been very busy lately. Thank you for your comments, they are always appreciated more than you know. Enjoy~_

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One would think that the end of a war— a victorious end, at that— would finally allow for feelings of relief and happiness amongst the survivors. After all, they were still alive and their side had won, ensuring that their ideals would then rule the society for at least a little while (until the next war began, anyways).

Unfortunately, things were just not that simple. Not for the students and teachers at Hogwarts.

After years of terrorizing the world— both Muggle and wizarding societies alike— Lord Voldemort was finally dead. The final Horcruxes had been destroyed, and Harry Potter had become the Master of Death after gaining possession of the Deathly Hallows.

Still, the witches and wizards were distraught to find that peace was a long way's away. Though victorious, their losses had been overwhelming. There had been masses of funerals the past week, and number of dead children was alarmingly high. Of course, the younger kids couldn't have fully realized what they were doing when they made the conscious decision to ignore the restrictions against underaged fighters. Most of them were, unsurprisingly, Gryffindors, though there was the occasional fallen Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw here and there. Besides Crabbe, no Slytherins lay dead, unless you counted the Death Eaters, all of whom were former Slytherins.

The terrible grief etched onto everyone's weary faces and the depressing atmosphere had been too much for Hermione Granger. First, it had been the accumulation of the bodies. Numbing herself from any pain and sorrow, she had carefully helped her friends carry one body after another; each with just as much respect as the last, whether it was an Order member or a foolish fourth year who had refused to retreat. They had all given their lives to fight for something they believed in, and thus, they would all be honoured as highly as the next.

Hermione could not bring herself to aid in preparing the bodies for a proper funeral. She recognized most of the lifeless faces before her, and she couldn't bear to come to terms with their passing so soon. Others volunteered for this instead, for which Hermione was grateful. She helped in other ways, such as providing emotional support for the families who had lost their children or spouses. The youngest of the students were the most difficult for her to deal with; those whom had lost a parent were especially devastated once the truth had sunken in. It ripped Hermione's heart into a million pieces having to try and explain to them that their mum or dad were now in a better place.

"Why did he leave without me then?" one little Hufflepuff had whispered while Hermione pulled her into a comforting embrace and told her that her daddy was in a happier place now. "Doesn't he want me to be happy too?"

Tears licked the edges of Hermione's eyes as she released the girl and gently grasped her shoulders. She was young. Oh so young. Too young to deal with the cruelties of this world, such as watching your father get hit by a jet of green light and fall over, dead.

"He _does_ want you to be happy," Hermione said softly. "He was a brave man and he fought hard so you can continue living a nice life here."

At the week's end, the funerals began. The first one Hermione attended was Fred Weasley's. She remained close to Harry and Ron during the entire ceremony, silently knowing that she still could not understand how it felt to lose a close loved one as they both had. She had never had any siblings before, and her parents were still safe in Australia. Her family was left completely unscathed by the war, while the Potters' and Weasleys' lives were torn apart. It almost felt wrong to still have a complete family.

Ron was especially shocked; Fred's death hadn't really sunken in completely until they watched as the ceremony came to an end and his casket was lowered into the ground at sunset in the quiet meadow beyond the Burrow. Fred Weasley had been laid to rest, but the mourning was far from over.

After Remus and Tonks' funerals, Harry, Ron, and Hermione returned to Hogwarts to retrieve their belongings. Most of the other students had stayed at the school as a place of refuge while their families regrouped; even some Slytherins were forced to remain behind once the Ministry captured their Death Eater-parents.

_Death Eater._

Hermione's mind began wandering at the very thought of Death Eaters. By now, most of Voldemort's dead supporters had been given hasty burials…all except one. But Hermione couldn't bring herself to tell anyone. Harry and Ron had enough to think about at the moment, so it was easy to see why they didn't remember the other fallen hero…the one who was still lying motionless in a place so rightfully-named the Shrieking Shack.

It had been a week since his death. Death Eater or not, he was still Dumbledore's man through and through. He deserved a proper funeral, and yet, whenever Hermione mustered up the courage to inform someone of his whereabouts, she was immediately interrupted by one trivial thing or another, and lost any confidence to continue once the person was ready to listen. Inwardly, she knew she was unable to come to terms with his death...thinking that as long as she didn't actually say it, then there'd still be a possibility of him being alive...

McGonagall, the newly-instated Headmistress, was so busy with tending to the now-parentless children and Muggle families whom had lost children in the war that she was hardly ever seen. She was usually gone; off to inform yet another unfortunate family of Muggles that their child had died in a wizarding war. Whenever she returned, she was busy organizing the orphans and dealing with the Ministry on finding proper homes for them if no outside family was left. Hermione knew the poor woman was terribly busy, but if she was going to tell someone about the forgotten man, it ought to have been her.

Unable to deal with the continued chaos within the castle, Hermione went outside for a bit of fresh air one crisp June morning. She smelled the breeze, hoping for the usual sweet, flowery scent that had always informed her of summer's arrival. Not today. It smelled like death, not that she was surprised: any pleasant aromas would have been inappropriate for the time anyways.

It was her last day before returning home, though she wasn't exactly going home: her plan was to go to Australia for the time being and return with her parents once she felt safe to come back to Britain again. She had informed Harry of this decision, and he supported her completely. However, she hadn't told Ron. For one, she didn't wish to upset him more than he already was, and she felt somewhat guilty by the idea of reuniting with her parents while he had just lost one of his own brothers.

Even the thoughts of seeing her parents again could not quell the horrible feeling she got whenever the memory of the man whom she had failed to save trickled into her mind. Though the two never verbally acknowledged it, he _had_ saved Hermione's life. This then bonded them with a form of ancient magic known as a life debt. Hermione had never known about this kind of bond until their third year, when Harry wrote to her after that summer, telling her what Dumbledore had said about his decision to stop Lupin and Sirius from killing Wormtail. As soon as they got back to Hogwarts, Hermione was in the library, studying up on this strange, yet fascinating magic.

One thing the books had failed to mention was the instance in which the saviour died before the indebted one could 'pay them back,' so to speak. Surely the bond could not be broken by something such as death? After all, some forms of magic still lived on in similar situations, such as the blood charm Harry's mother had cast upon him as a baby. Harry didn't talk about this much, but he gave Hermione just enough information to fill in the gaps on her own. Even though Lily Potter died, her blood— which ran through Harry's veins— gave him the protection against Voldemort, and even tied him to life when Voldemort had so foolishly used it to regain his body.

Was it possible that there was still a way that Hermione could still repay that debt to him? After all, Harry had also mentioned at one point that his father had saved Snape's life. As far as they knew, Snape never did anything specifically for _James_, though after he died, Snape protected Harry. Could that possibly have paid off the bond, thus allowing Snape to be free from James debt, even though he had died before Snape fullfilled this task?

Hermione fell to her knees in frustration. The ground was cold beneath her bare knees; she had unknowingly wandered into the Forbidden Forest. Her head throbbed painfully. Trying to sort out the magical properties of life debts after a week of grieving and mind-numbing chaos was not good for her mental health.

Of all the deaths, his had hit her the hardest. Not because she was particularly fond of him— though secretly she found his sarcasm amusing at times…as long as it wasn't directed at her— but because she had had the opportunity to save him. She knew more spells than anyone at Hogwarts, save for the teachers, of course. But then why had a man died while under her care?

There was a gentle snort, and Hermione looked up, awestruck by the sight of the hideous, yet majestic-looking black horses walking towards her. Yes, they definitely had to be some of the ugliest creatures she had ever seen, and for some reason, Hermione felt no fear. They were frightening enough, yet she felt as though she was greeting some old friends instead of seeing a pair of demonic horses for the first time. It was the most inexplicable sensation, yet her mind did not bother trying to comprehend it.

"So you can see them now?" a soft, dreamy voice came from behind Hermione, startling her slightly. She jumped to her feet and whirled around to see Luna Lovegood. The girl was completely oblivious to the fact that she had just interrupted Hermione's thoughts, but offered her a small, sympathetic smile to compensate.

Hermione looked between Luna and the skeletal winged horses in front of her, quite not believing that she didn't realize it sooner: they were thestrals.

It certainly made sense, but it didn't occur to Hermione until Luna mentioned it; having only _read_ about thestrals before. Now, she was actually _seeing_ them. She felt both sickened and scared. Back in their fifth year, when Hagrid first taught them about these creatures, she never imagined that she would one day actually be able to see them.

Luna calmly walked up to one of the thestrals and petted its bony muzzle.

"They're beautiful aren't they?"

Beautiful was _not_ the way Hermione would have described them, but she nodded anyways and ran her hand down the second thestral's neck. It was cold to her touch, but she didn't pull away. Luna was watching her curiously, and she felt that the girl wouldn't talk to her as long as she pretended to be interested in the thestrals.

"You must have cared about them very much," Luna murmured absentmindedly. Her uncomfortable habit of speaking her mind was unsettling for Hermione, who would have almost preferred it if the dreamy girl would keep her thoughts to herself. She was, of course, referring to the person's whose death she had witnessed.

Wondering if Luna was waiting for a response, Hermione looked up at her. Gazing into the girl's misty grey eyes, she felt her thoughts travelling back to Snape. Understandably, his death was the worst to bear and she blamed him for her newfound ability to see thestrals, even though his was not the first death she had seen in her lifetime.

"No…I didn't," Hermione replied firmly, though she knew, deep down, that she was lying. No, she never did actually like Snape, but he _had_ saved her life and she just couldn't allow herself to completely hate him after that.

"Oh," was all that Luna said. Hermione could tell that the other girl knew she was lying.

Why did it matter? It was a war; everyone had seen death. Why did Hermione still feel so horrible coming to terms with it?

"Because I could have saved him," Hermione answered her own thoughts, not realizing that she was saying it aloud. Immediately, her hands flew to her mouth, but it was too late: Luna was watching her again.

"Just because they're dead doesn't mean they're gone," Luna said mysteriously. Her comments could be so frustrating for Hermione sometimes, since they often made absolutely no sense. While Hermione used logic to solve all of life's problems, Luna preferred to believe in the unbelievable. It was ridiculous.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, expecting another completely illogical answer to follow.

Luna sat on the ground next to her. "If you really need to see someone…then you'll find a way."

She was maddening, she was. Snape was dead. There was no possibility for him to come back, and there was no point in her trying to prove otherwise. In their third year, poor Harry had been disillusioned by the thought that his father could come back, when really, he was only seeing himself. Convincing herself that what Luna said meant that she'd find a way to correct her mistake would only plunge her further into despair.

There were no options left for Hermione to at least _thank_ Snape for what he did, let alone help him out enough to lift this heavy burden off her shoulders. She almost wondered if life debts were magical at all. What if it was more of a mental problem? Hermione highly doubted she was going crazy, but then why would she give a damn about Snape if it weren't for the bond of a life debt? The longer she thought about it, the fuzzier her mind became.

Even after several silent minutes of analyzing the possibilities, Luna's vague words still made no sense at all, and they were far from comforting. In fact, they only made Hermione dwell further on her failures…

**xXxXxXxXx**

In the old days, Ron would have cracked a joke that Hermione was going mad...again. After all, with just one more night at Hogwarts, Hermione was going to have to tell someone about the forgotten body; something she had put off until the last minute, hoping that he would somehow come back to life if nobody verbally acknowledged that he was dead.

Ron was quiet tonight. No surprise there: ever since Fred's funeral, he had taken to silently brooding about life and its unfairness. He didn't even notice Hermione fretfully tapping her wand on the edge of the table, impatient for Professor McGonagall to show up so she could inform her of Snape's whereabouts.

Harry noticed, but he didn't say anything. Hermione speculated whether Harry had already informed McGonagall, but figured she might as well ask the older woman, just to be sure. None of them would want to talk about Snape if his name suddenly arose in a conversation; the memories he had left Harry bound him to speechlessness, and Hermione was too devastated about her prominent role in his failure to survive to be able to talk about him without losing her cool.

_Why am I telling her anyways?_ Hermione thought as she glanced at a nearby clock for the billionth time that evening. _Harry probably told her by now...he wouldn't have made that very public, even to Ron and me, right?_

"I'm going for a walk," Hermione said suddenly. She stood up from her cosy chair by the fire and began walking towards the portrait exit. Neither boy acknowledged her departure, which was fine with her. This would be one of her last journeys around Hogwarts, and for some inexplicable reason, she was glad to experience it alone. She had no desire to become a teacher here, not for a while, at least. Too many painful memories surrounded her here, and it would be best if she left permanently.

Her feet had minds of their own; she did not intentionally decide where to go, but rather let them direct her path. It was late at night by now, and the corridors were filled with sinister shadows that smothered Hermione in darkness.

"_Lumos._"

Damage from the fighting was still quite apparent on both sides of the hallways she wandered through. Smashed statues here and there, irreplaceable portraits scattered along the ground, waiting for someone to dispose of them properly, and there were still hints of blood on the ground where the elves hadn't finished polishing. Hogwarts didn't look the same as it had in her earlier years. It would never be the same.

Somehow, Hermione found herself pausing in front of the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy and the trolls. It was so familiar that her mind automatically registered her location as the seventh floor corridor. It took several seconds of staring to consciously realize where she was…

Hermione whirled around. There was a wall behind her, but not just any wall. Almost without thinking, she began pacing back and forth in front of it, just as she and Ron and Harry had done all those times when they were preparing for D.A. practice. On the third passing, a magnificent door magically appeared. She knew it would be there. She only hoped that it wouldn't fail her…

Breathing rapidly, Hermione reached for the brass handle and pushed the door open. The Room of Requirement was as vast as ever, yet she felt some inner doubts even as she remembered everything this room had done for them. Surely a room as powerful and ancient as this could perform magic that even Hermione thought was impossible?

_I need a Time Turner,_ she thought desperately, but nothing came. She thought harder, but this only made her head throb painfully in concentration. After several minutes, she gave up trying to focus on this one requirement. Had the room really failed her this time? The Time Turners had been destroyed in the Department of Mysteries by the Death Eaters during her fifth year, but surely the room could conjure one anyways?

Apparently not.

Then again, Hermione realized, a Time Turner would do more harm than good. While it had certainly proven useful in her third year— saving both Buckbeak and Sirius' lives— it would be wrong to change the past in this situation. If she returned to the Shrieking Shack and somehow managed to stop Snape from going inside, who's to say he wouldn't have died later anyways? And her knowledge of the future would undoubtedly raise suspicions to the point where she would severely screw up the timeline. She certainly couldn't stop Nagini, lest she kill both herself and her friends by revealing their hiding place to Voldemort. And, without Snape's memories, how would Harry have garnered the strength to give up his own life? Though she knew he would survive anyways, Hermione would sound like an awful friend telling him to go on and face Voldemort. It was better if he heard it from someone like Dumbledore.

That left absolutely no options for Time Turners. She _could_ go back to the night Snape killed Dumbledore and force him to stay at school rather than fleeing, but this would also lead to disastrous consequences. One must not fiddle around with time, Hermione knew. A Time Turner would not solve her problems.

_Then what do I do?_ Hermione pleaded the room. _How am I supposed to thank Snape now? There must be a way…_

"Stop it," Hermione muttered to herself, fearing that she was starting to think like Luna. She was _not_ crazy; she didn't believe in things that were simply impossible.

"Snape is…"

Just before she finished admitting that Snape was dead and there was nothing that she could do about it, the Room of Requirement suddenly disappeared and Hermione felt herself floating in an endless sea of soft pink clouds. There were no objects within this mist, just her and the clouds. It was _weird_.

This must have been one of the strangest dreams Hermione had ever found herself in. Nothing was happening; it was neither a dream nor a nightmare. She was just…_there_. It almost felt like her close call with death, except there was no dark tunnel this time. If this wasn't a dream, then she was quite certain that she had gone insane.

Out of nowhere, a small wooden door appeared. It grew bigger and bigger as it got nearer to Hermione, until it was right next to her, beckoning her to open it. Every ounce of common sense told her not to open it. What if it was Dark Magic? What if, when she opened it, she was hit by a jet of green light? She wasn't exactly dying to find out what was on the other side, after all.

Still, the longer she stared at the door, she grew more attracted to the handle. She tried to stop her hand from reaching for that dusty golden knob, but there was no stopping the movement. It felt as though she was under the Imperious Curse, and could not control anything she was doing. Within seconds, she stepped through the door and walked into blackness.

**xXxXxXxXx**

With a jolt, Hermione woke up to find herself sitting in a rather awkward position in an abandoned compartment on the Hogwart's Express. It had been a dream. The Room of Requirement— or was that a part of the dream too?— had failed her, and she was now heading back home. Would she ever return to Hogwarts? Perhaps. Would it be a happy little reunion? No.

Harry and Ron were probably off changing into their Muggle clothing. By the looks of the sky, they were going to arrive at King's Cross within an hour or so. She couldn't bring herself to look out at the landscape; instead, she settled for some peaceful stargazing. It was a beautiful night. The calmness in the air settled Hermione's frenzied mind. After all, she had gone to hell and back in the last several days, and she knew life could never be the same. Sure, she was going to see her parents again. The thought alone could not diminish the pain she felt, and she almost considered deserting the wizarding world altogether. Life as a Muggle would be simple and relatively boring. Cut off from the world of magic, she could ignore the pain and suffering she had witnessed over her seven-year immersion there, and deceive herself into thinking she was just your normal, everyday Muggle.

But deep down, Hermione knew she couldn't leave. Most of her friends were still alive, and she couldn't imagine her life without magic. As crazy as it sounded when McGonagall first visited her home to inform her parents of her special qualities, Hermione was deeply attached to the world now. Suffering was a part of everyday life. It was what made her feel human.

Suddenly, just outside her compartment door, a boy with messy black hair walked by, not even noticing her.

_Doesn't Harry know I'm in here?_ Hermione thought, perplexed as to why he went right by her compartment without even glancing inside.

"Harry!" she called after him, but he didn't turn around. She knew it was him…there was no mistaking his appearance. Maybe he was feeling ill and couldn't hear her?

Deciding that his company— or Ron's if she could find him— would be nice, Hermione ran after him. She was lonely, and she didn't appreciate her friend ignoring her. His mind may be troubled at the moment, but that was no excuse for him to shun a close friend.

"Harry, are you okay?" Hermione reached for his shoulder and turned him around. At the sight of the boy's mischievous grin, Hermione's jaw dropped. This...wasn't...Harry. Sure, the glasses and facial features were exactly the same, but his eyes…they weren't green, but..._hazel_? Was this just a trick of the light? Also, his forehead was clear of any lightning bolt scar, and his expression was much too cheerful for the kind of mood her Harry had been in lately.

But…how could it _not_ be Harry? Was _this_ the dream, and the Room of Requirement had been real? How could someone look so much like Harry Potter, yet Hermione instinctively knew that this boy wasn't him at all?

Clearly amused by Hermione's bafflement, the boy's grin widened. "Harry who?"

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